


Relaxing after training

by tissaias_piglet



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Lesbian Sex, Modern AU, Police AU, Quickie, Rare Pairings, absolute crack fic, post-shower sex, there is literally almost nothing about police in the actual fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:15:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28034496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tissaias_piglet/pseuds/tissaias_piglet
Summary: Philippa wrapped a towel around herself and stepped out of the shower. She’d pushed herself hard, trying to distract herself from thoughts of Ciri, and her muscles were aching sweetly. But for all her training had temporarily put the thoughts from her mind, they'd returned the moment she stepped into the shower, even filthier than before. When she saw Ciri sat in front of her on one of the benches, she blinked a few times, wondering when her imagination got so good.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon/Philippa Eilhart
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	Relaxing after training

-1-

“Ciri! What are you doing here?” Geralt grinned, jumping up from his desk to hug her, upsetting a cascade of papers which slithered into, and knocked over, the framed photograph of himself and Ciri which he kept on his desk. Or perhaps it was deliberate, hiding the soft side he denied that he possessed. “I need to talk to the front desk about not letting in the riff-raff!” He ruffled Ciri’s hair like she was 10, not 24, which made Philippa feel even more awkward about her little crush than she already did, and she looked away hastily. The less time she spent thinking sinful things about her partner’s adopted daughter, the better.

“I came to visit my favourite father figure,” Ciri smiled, squirming out from beneath his hand, “but if he’s going to keep being a jackass, I might just go and talk to his lovely partner instead. She smells better too!” Ciri waved cheerfully when Philippa looked up at the sound of her name. “Hey Philippa!”

Philippa waved and smiled back, trying to keep her eyes on Ciri’s face and not her chest. “Hey Ciri. You know there’s always a seat by my desk for you, babe.” What she wanted to say was that Ciri could always sit on her face, but she wouldn’t put it past Geralt to pull out his gun and shoot her there and then in the squad room if she said anything of the sort. Plus, she had precisely zero evidence that Ciri was interested in her, or interested in women at all, although Geralt had his suspicions.

She tried to keep that particular thought about Ciri’s supposed sexual preferences from her head at all times, but it was much harder when Ciri was right there in front of her. She wore a loose white blouse, tight trousers tucked into knee-high boots, like some kind of pirate queen. Philippa wanted to undress her slowly, then drag down her panties with her teeth.

“I’m your only father-figure, so start acting like it!” Geralt reminded her. Philippa was surprised to realise that the conversation hadn’t moved on at all and was grateful that she didn’t seem to have been lost in her smutty daydream for too long. Geralt continued, seeming oblivious, “and Philippa has work to do, she doesn’t want a little kid bothering her.”

Philippa smiled down at her paperwork. She loved listening to their banter, although she could do without Geralt constantly calling Ciri a child. After all, at 24, Ciri was just three years younger than Philippa, but Geralt’s comments always made it feel wildly inappropriate that she sometimes wondered how it would feel to have Ciri falling apart beneath her mouth. More than sometimes, actually.

Thinking that Ciri would have turned away from her, Philippa risked a glance up again, and her eyes met Ciri’s, the younger woman smirking at her. Philippa didn’t know what there was to smirk about, but given her sense of humour, it was equally likely to be a practical joke as something sexual.

“Chief!” Geralt called to Vesemir as he slung an arm around Ciri’s shoulders, “I’m taking a long lunch.” Vesemir smiled, giving Ciri a two-fingered salute, and she curtseyed and smiled back. In a team full of men who were childless and utterly married to the job, she was like a surrogate daughter to all of them. And that meant that it was doubly – triply? quadruply? - unwise for Philippa to try anything sexual with her, or she’d have the rage of not just one but several angry fathers raining down on her.

“Philippa, rain check on training?” Geralt asked.

She considered her answer, scrawling her signature on the training report she’d just finished. Training in which she’d saved Geralt’s miserable ass again, not that she was allowed to write that. Still, failures in training sessions didn’t correspond to failures in real life, and there was no one she’d rather have as her partner than Geralt. “Pussy,” she smiled smugly, not looking up in case she caught Ciri’s eye and completely lost her words. “You just didn’t want to suffer your third crushing, humiliating defeat in as many days. Did you set this up just to get out of it?”

People often asked Philippa how she knew that Geralt had no interest in her – since, according to popular culture, all opposite-sex cops who were partners ended up fucking – but to her, the question was simply, how could anyone see them together and think there was anything going on? Geralt treated her exactly the same way as he treated Ciri, and it suited them both. She gained a brother-figure, and Geralt gained someone he could banter with, knock back a few beers with, hit the gym with, all without having to worry about anything making it awkward. Plus it helped that he knew Philippa was a lesbian who’d never, in her entire life, entertained the thought of fucking a man for even 10 seconds.

Geralt didn’t answer. He glanced at the swear jar on Vesemir’s desk, then mouthed ‘fuck you’. Philippa looked up just in time to catch it and smartly flipped him off, hidden behind a stack of papers so Vesemir couldn’t see.

“Bye Philippa!” Ciri called, with a ringing laugh, as they left the office. Philippa forced herself to look down at her paperwork and not stare, salivating, at the departure of Ciri’s ass.

-2-

Philippa wrapped a towel around herself and stepped out of the shower, wiping away the last drops of water, which were running down towards her eyes. Even without Geralt training at her side, she’d pushed herself hard, trying to distract herself from thoughts of Ciri, and her muscles were aching sweetly. But for all her training had temporarily put the thoughts from her mind, they'd returned the moment she stepped into the shower, even filthier than before. The only reason she’d managed to refrain from getting herself off in the shower was the idea of how horrified she’d be if any man did that.

When she saw Ciri sat in front of her on one of the benches, she blinked a few times, wondering when her imagination got so good. She was tempted to go back into the shower, wait a minute, and then re-emerge, to see whether the vision had gone.

“Hey, Philippa,” Ciri smirked, making no move to disguise that she was openly staring at Philippa’s wet thighs, her gaze hungry. She bit her lower lip slightly, and Philippa felt her knees go weak. “We don’t have long, I told Geralt I needed to use the bathroom before I left.” Philippa couldn’t find the words to respond; she could still barely believe what she was seeing. But fuck, she was already aching so much, and seeing Ciri look so seductively at her wasn’t helping. As though sensing that she needed to take the initiative, Ciri stood up, moving close enough that she could toy with the bottom of Philippa’s towel, fingertips just brushing against her thighs. “You know, the longer we stand here, the less time I have to make you come.” Ciri’s voice had dropped to a low purr which hit Philippa right between her legs, making her pussy clench. “I’m not wrong in thinking you want that, am I?”

Fuck, Philippa was so desperate to say yes. She wanted Ciri’s mouth on her, fingers inside her, bite marks on her thighs and breasts. But Geralt would kill her if he found out. Possibly literally. Ciri’s fingers slipped up beneath the towel, grazing ever so softly against Philippa’s folds as she stroked her thigh. “ _Fuck_ ,” Philippa groaned, shaking with the effort it took not to grind herself on Ciri’s fingers, “Ciri, we shouldn’t-”

Ciri smirked, knowing she’d won, and shoved Philippa roughly up against the wall. She dropped to her knees, lifting Philippa’s leg over her shoulder, and pushing her towel out of the way. “Look at you,” she moaned, stroking lightly with her fingertip, watching as more wetness gathered. “You wouldn’t believe how many women I’ve fucked because they reminded me of you, but you’re better than I could ever have hoped.”

She slipped her finger inside Philippa, marvelling as the older woman moaned and tightened around her, and Philippa lost her patience, grabbing a handful of Ciri’s hair and pulling her close, shoving herself against Ciri’s mouth. “Yes madam,” Ciri smirked wider, her voice a little muffled by Philippa’s cunt, but the message was clear. Philippa had never enjoyed being called anything other than her own name before, but now she gripped Ciri’s hair hard, grinding desperately on her tongue.

“Oh fuck, you’re so good,” Philippa moaned, as Ciri sucked her clit firmly, one finger still moving inside her. Her standing leg was trembling, the other dangerously close to cramping up from the awkward position, but she couldn’t bear the idea of having to stop. She just needed to come quickly. And from the way Ciri was devouring her, it didn’t seem like that would be a problem. Her hips jerked forward hard as Ciri teased her clit softly, then sucked hard again. “Fuck, I’ve wanted this for so long! I need-” Philippa’s words broke off into a high whine as Ciri pushed another finger inside her, and licked furiously at her clit. “Oh, don’t stop!” she moaned, pushing herself against Ciri’s face until she was almost worried about smothering her.

In spite of her earlier insistence that they make it quick, Ciri slowed down, languidly licking every inch of Philippa’s pussy, moving her fingers hard and deep, but slow, feeling them come out wetter with each thrust. “You’re going to reward me after this, aren’t you?” she asked between licks. “I know you’ve wanted to for so long. You’re not subtle.” She buried a seductive laugh in Philippa’s pussy.

Philippa bit her lip to stop herself moaning too loudly. “Just fuck me, make me come, Ciri,” she half-commanded, half-begged, dragging her nails through Ciri’s hair and making the younger woman moan. Ciri responded by beginning to lick furiously, sucking firmly when she felt Philippa’s thighs beginning to tremble. “Be a good girl for me,” Philippa panted, holding Ciri in place and moving frantically against her mouth.

Ciri curled her fingers, thrusting hard inside her and pressing firmly in the place which made Philippa weak. Her desperate moans as she ate Philippa out were as much encouragement as any filthy words. “Fuck, I’m coming!” Philippa gasped suddenly, clutching at Ciri’s hair, “oh, oh fuck!” She arched away from the wall, her hips bucking furiously against Ciri’s mouth as she soaked her, coming so hard she couldn’t make a sound, tears running down her cheeks.

Ciri licked up her juices with obscene wet noises, before helping Philippa to stand shakily, still panting. “I’ll be waiting for you to return the favour,” she smirked, casually brushing her hair back from her face, licking her lips much more seductively than was necessary, making Philippa’s weak legs even weaker. “But maybe next time we could do it somewhere a little nicer?”


End file.
